


The Blessing of the Blackbird

by JoMouse



Series: Imagine Sterek Events [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, Flirting, Florist Derek Hale, Flowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: Derek returns to Beacon Hills to open a flower shop. Stiles comes in every morning to buy flowers and Derek's curious.Day 1 ofImagine-Sterek'sValentine's Day Event. Theme: Flowers
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Imagine Sterek Events [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586374
Comments: 36
Kudos: 308





	The Blessing of the Blackbird

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings and Salutations!
> 
> Welcome to the beginning of the second Valentine's event that I've involved myself in this year! I love [Imagine-Sterek's](http://imagine-sterek.tumblr.com) blog so much that even though I signed up for the other event, I really wanted to do theirs as well, so here I am.
> 
> Big thanks to my beta [Marie](http://quietap.tumblr.com) for putting up with me and my whining and always being super quick with her betaing. I don't know what I'd do without you, babe!
> 
> Now, this story I actually started late last year for the Mystery theme for Sterek Week but it didn't feel right then, so I ended up writing [Parental Approval](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175169) instead. When the flowers theme came up, I pulled it out, brushed it off and continued writing until I finished.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.
> 
> xx-Joey

Blackbird Bloom was a quaint shop located in a line of similar shops in the not-too-small, yet not-too-large town of Beacon Hills, California. The outside was painted a pleasant lilac color which stood out from the greys and yellows of the surrounding stores. The windows were clean and bright, flower boxes full of blooms, half that opened with the sun and half that came alive when the moon was bright in the sky.

The building had originally been a townhouse that a kindly old woman called home after her children had all moved across the country and her husband had passed away. Cordelia Curtis would sit by one of the big front windows on either side of her front door and watch the world go by, fingers flying over her sketchpad recreating what she saw. As she drew, the home around her fell into disarray. One afternoon, a young man dressed in a deputy’s uniform stopped in front of the windows, arms full of blooms. He spent a couple of hours filling the window boxes, bringing a splash of color to the home.

The next day, the young man returned with a patio chair, the cushion bright and thick. He set it in front of the window, smiling and waving when he met Cordelia’s eyes through the window. Day after day the young man returned until the front of the home was inviting enough to lure Cordelia out of her home and into the chair. She continued to sketch the world but now interacted with it more.

A few weeks after she’d begun sitting outside, a regal looking woman sat in the empty chair, pulling a young boy of about nine years old to stand next to her. She introduced herself and her son to the woman, explaining that she’d seen her through the window many times and had felt the urge to come introduce herself, but until that day when her son had spotted her and dragged her over to see what she was drawing, she’d never managed to do it. They spent that afternoon and many others over the following years chatting, the son always accompanying his mother, the two of them never crossing paths with her other visitors.

One day during those years, the young deputy brought his son to visit. The three-year-old was bright eyes, mole-speckled skin and non-stop mouth. He made Cordelia laugh and long for her grandchildren that she only saw on holidays. He started coming with his father at least once a week and sometimes they brought his mother, the deputy’s wife. The three of them, along with the other woman and her son, became Cordelia’s family and she had many sketches of them filling her books.

When Cordelia was in her early nineties, her body becoming tired and her mind slowing down, her hands too twisted to continue drawing at the frequency she had been, the deputy’s wife became ill. His son’s eyes became dull and the non-stop energy became nearly frenetic in direct counterpoint. The deputy’s shoulders slumped, even when he was elected sheriff, stress weighed him down. When his wife passed away, Cordelia attended the funeral, the child’s face buried in her waist while he gripped tightly to his father’s hand. Cordelia spotted the regal woman and her son, a teenager not quite grown into himself, bunny teeth showing behind his lips as he took in the service, standing in the distance. The boy waved when their eyes met and Cordelia nodded.

Things changed after that, the Sheriff and his son never returned and the visits from the woman and her son grew further and further apart while the grey in her hair and the stress on her face more pronounced until Cordelia’s adopted family stopped visiting altogether. She was unsurprised but still lonely. 

She returned to spending her days inside, missing the Sheriff and his son, but understanding their need to grieve. She spotted the regal woman many times and they exchanged waves, but even the pride in her stance began to weaken, her waves more lethargic, her smiles less bright, more forced. Cordelia spotted her son around town many times, his confidence seemed to have grown with the fading of his mothers. She first spotted him with a young girl around his age and later she thought she’d glimpsed him with a woman much too old for him with a dark spirit surrounding her. She added worry to her loneliness as she kept vigil at her windows.

A few weeks after she’d spotted the teenager with the woman, a fire in the preserve devastated the town. Nearly an entire family was lost, including the regal woman. One man was left comatose and two siblings, one barely an adult, were left on their own. Although they quickly left town after the funerals, she thought of them often. 

One night a few years after the fire, Cordelia called the Sheriff and asked him to come and bring his son; a small part of her feared they’d forgotten her and wouldn’t come, but they arrived within the hour and spent the evening talking, reminiscing and laughing. The boy was no longer the child she remembered; he’d become a mouthy teenager with too many brains and too much energy, but so full of love that it made Cordelia want to hug him to her chest and never let him go.

Before they parted ways for the night, she gave the boy a catalog envelope. She told him he would know when to open it. The Sheriff teased that the boy would have it open as soon as they were out of sight, but she trusted that he would do the right thing. The boy hugged her and promised to visit the next day. Cordelia brushed away tears as she locked the door behind them and headed to her bed for a final time.

* * *

_Six Years Later_

Derek flipped the sign from _Closed_ to _Open._ He peeked through the glass at the empty street in front of the shop. He wasn’t surprised at the lack of customers. The shop was new; Derek had spent the last six months renovating the bottom floor of the townhouse located on Main Street into a flower shop. The house had stood empty for six years since the previous owner had passed away leaving it to Derek and his sister. Living in New York, they’d had no need for a shop in the California town where they’d grown up. They’d discussed selling it, but Derek had too many fond memories from the home and the woman who’d lived there that he couldn’t bear to part with it.

When they’d gotten notice that the city had rezoned it as commercial/residential, allowing for the top floor to remain a living space, Derek approached his sister with the idea of a flower shop. It had taken little convincing for her to agree and she’d flown ahead to check out the area and start the necessary paperwork to open the business. Derek had waited in New York, packing up the apartment they shared and preparing to move. The day Laura had been due to come back to New York to get him, he’d gotten a phone call from the Beacon Hills Sheriff instead. 

His sister had been killed in an animal attack near the land where the house they’d grown up in used to stand. The Sheriff offered to take care of arrangements if Derek decided not to move back, the town holding nothing but tragedy and loss for him, but he’d told the kind man he’d still be returning. There were a lot of good memories of Beacon Hills for him to focus on, many of them centered on the home where Blackbird Blooms was now housed, and very few in New York that didn’t center around the sister that was no longer there.

He’d done his best to advertise the small shop, but there were only so many options in a town like Beacon Hills. A part of Derek had hoped that, despite doing his best to stay under the radar, that small-town gossip about him returning to town would have been enough to draw a crowd. There had been enough people walking past as he’d painted the shop name and logo on the front window that he’d hoped the gawkers would turn up for the opening and spend money, even just the smallest amount, but it seemed he’d overestimated the people of Beacon Hills. 

He’d intended to open on Monday, but after speaking with a couple of other shop owners, he found that Mondays were a day that most businesses remained closed, as well as Sundays. After some serious thought, he decided to avoid ruffling any feathers and just opening on Tuesday. Having two consecutive days off a week would help keep him from burning out. If he decided in time that it would be wise to open more days during the week, he would. He already had a list of “special” days he would be open no matter which day of the week they fell on and some of them fell on Sundays, like Mother’s Day.

To keep himself from staring at the door, he moved to the workbench located at the rear of the shop, happy he’d torn out the divider wall so he could keep an eye on the front while working. He reached up to the wall, straightening the frame hanging there, a sketch of a blackbird that had come to them along with the deed when they’d inherited the store; it had been the inspiration for the name and the logo for the shop. He smiled fondly as he remembered the old woman sketching as he and his mother had visited with her.

Wiping away the single tear that escaped, he climbed onto the stool at the workbench, sighing. There was nothing for him to work on; he’d stayed up all night setting up the displays for the store so he didn’t need to worry about those. The inventory was complete and he certainly had no orders to fill. He debated again setting up a website for those people too busy to stop by a physical shop. Finally, he grabbed the book he’d been reading and settled in for a long, boring day.

He’d only gotten through one page when the bell over the door jangled, causing him to drop the book to the floor. Sliding off the stool, he bent over to pick it up and was standing back up when someone spoke up from the other side of the counter. “Hello?”

“Welcome to Blackbird Bloom,” Derek said, a smile pasted on his face as he turned to face his first customer. The young man was looking down at his phone, mole-speckled face drawn in concentration as he read something that made him frown before shoving his phone in his pocket and meeting Derek’s eyes, blinking rapidly as he did so.

“H...h-hi,” he stuttered out. “You are not a middle-aged woman.”

Derek’s eyebrows drew together as he tilted his head. “No...unless you consider twenty-seven middle-aged.”

“Nope. Definitely not middle-aged,” the young man responded, head tilted in consideration. “Definitely not a woman, either.”

The chuckle escaped before he could stop himself. “Not the last time I checked, no,” he uttered. “Was there a reason you thought I was a middle-aged woman?”

The man’s lips curled down at the corners. “I thought Laura Hale was running the shop.”

Derek swallowed the lump that jumped to his throat and tilted his head back towards the ceiling to keep tears away. “She was my sister and my partner, but she...passed away shortly after we purchased the building.”

The man smacked his forehead in a way that would’ve been funny if his heart wasn’t aching with memories of Laura. “Dumbass, you knew that,” he muttered to himself, glancing down at the floor. “So, you’re Derek, then?” the man asked, a weak smile on his face when he looked back up at him. “Stiles,” the man introduced himself, holding a hand out. “Stiles Stilinski.”

It was an unusual name, but he was possibly a paying customer, so Derek took his hand, surprised by the firmness of the grip. “Stilinski? Any relation to the sheriff?” 

“He’s my dad,” Stiles said, chest puffed up with pride. 

The line of conversation had reached a natural conclusion and Derek was terrible at making conversation on a good day, which was why Laura was supposed to do the customer service part of the job, so they stood there, hands still clasped between them, for several minutes until Stiles’ phone rang loudly from his pocket. 

“Shit, I gotta take this,” he said after checking the screen. “Can I get a small bouquet of mixed flowers, the brighter the better, please?” he asked, eyes pleading. 

“Of course,” Derek said, grateful that Stiles had at least waited for him to respond before he turned his attention to his phone. 

Derek was tying a red ribbon around the bouquet of orange and yellow blooms when Stiles reappeared at the counter, phone gone, stress evident on his face. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. 

Picking up the bouquet, Derek approached the counter. “It’s alright. Is this?” he asked.

Stiles nodded, barely looking at the bouquet as he handed over his credit card. Glancing down at it, he took note of the first name; it made sense why the young man went by Stiles. Working quickly, the tapping of Stiles’ foot making him try to get the machine to work even quicker, he completed the transaction and handed the card back with a smile. “Thank you, Stiles. Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you, too,” Stiles tossed back over his shoulder as he hurried out the door, bouquet clutched in his hand and phone being lifted back to his ear.

The day remained quiet until about three in the afternoon, when the bells above the door rang again, a young couple wandering in looking for matching flowers for a formal that upcoming Friday. After they left, it was like the floodgates had opened, the door opened and closed nonstop until Derek finally flipped the sign back over to _Closed_ , an exhausted smile on his face wondering who held a formal dance on a Friday night. 

Setting up a pot of coffee to brew, he settled at the workbench sorting orders and making sketches. He would wait until Wednesday to order the flowers and then pull an all-nighter on Thursday making the items. It would be exhausting but he should be able to pull it off with lots of caffeine and determination. As he checked the clock and saw it was nearing midnight, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep this pace up by himself for long. He’d hoped to put it off, but if this kept up, he was going to have to break down and hire someone to help him out around the shop.

The next morning, Derek stumbled down the iron circular stairs at the back of the building, another perk with owning the building was the small apartment upstairs. He could get used to a thirty-second commute to work; it certainly beat the hours he used to spend on trains in New York. Swatting at the light switches as he went, he made his way to the front, jumping when there was a knock on the front window. Looking up, a laugh burst out of Derek when he saw Stiles with his face pressed to the window, hands cupped over his eyes.

Flipping the sign as he unlocked the door, he pulled it open. “Good morning, Stiles.”

“Morning, Derek,” Stiles responded, smiling. “Sorry if I’m too early.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told him, standing back and ushering him in. “I’m guessing that I’m going to have a bunch of teenagers coming in again today. Apparently, homecoming is this weekend and procrastination is popular with the kids around here.”

“Doesn’t help that they're doing standardized testing and have half days, either,” Stiles commented as he stood in front of the coolers, fingers against the glass as he peered into each one. Derek made a note to wipe the glass down later but didn’t feel the need to make Stiles stop leaving fingerprints. “Can I get another bouquet? Same size as yesterday, but with those,” he pointed at a bucket of sunflowers, “and those?” his fingers touching the glass of the cooler holding tulips in various shades.

“Of course,” Derek said, moving around him to open the coolers and gesturing. “I’ll need three of each. Take your pick.”

“Really?” Derek nodded and stood to the side as Stiles’ hands danced over the blooms, finally deciding on the six that he wanted, a soft smile on his face. 

Derek took the flowers to the workbench, Stiles following and stopping to lean on the counter while Derek worked. When Derek reached for the paper to wrap the blooms, after adding some filler ferns and baby’s breath, he glanced over to find Stiles’ head down on top of his crossed arms on the counter. His eyes were closed, lashes fanning over his cheeks.

Wrapping the flowers and tying them with a ribbon, Derek moved to lay them on the counter next to Stiles’ head. “Hey,” he whispered, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin for the first time that morning as he blinked his eyes open and snuffled, rubbing a hand over his nose and standing upright.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Stiles muttered, pulling his wallet out and handing over his card. 

“No problem. I get it. I’m useless without my coffee,” Derek told him, running the card. “In fact, I was about to make a pot, do you want a cup?”

Stiles frowned and looked at his watch. “Wish I had time, dude,” he said, taking his card back and picking up the bouquet. “See you later!” he called out as the door closed behind him.

The kids from the day before must have gone home to tell their parents about the shop because shortly after Stiles left, the bell over the door rang again and didn’t stop. He started to believe he would be able to make it work and he would have to hire someone sooner rather than later to help him with the front counter and if things kept up the way they had been he should have no problem paying someone.

He didn’t have a chance to stop for lunch, but around three things started to slow down enough that he had a sandwich delivered. The bell above the door rang just as he took a bite. Chewing quickly, he stood to greet the customer, stopping when he didn’t see anyone right away.

“Hello?” he called out, startling when a blonde girl stepped out from behind one of the displays near the doorway. “I didn’t see you there!” he exclaimed, his smile genuine when she looked up at him through her lashes. “Welcome to Blackbird Blooms; I’m Derek Hale.”

“Erica Reyes,” the girl said, moving closer, fingers running over the display cases. Her hair hung limply in her face, her skin pale, and she looked a bit lost in the oversized sweatshirt she was wearing, but the small smiles she gave some of the things on the shelves was genuine. 

“Can I help you with something? Flowers for the dance?” he asked; she looked about the same age as the kids that had been coming in and out for the last couple of days.

She shook her head. “I’m not going,” she said, softly. “I was walking by and saw you were open.” She smiled at a display of succulents in animal-shaped pots, tapping the nose of a golden wolf. “I like flowers.”

“I do, too,” Derek told her, relieved when she giggled and pushed her messy curls out of her face. “Hey, you aren’t looking for a job, are you?” The words were out of his mouth before his mind had even acknowledge the thought but he didn’t regret them when her eyes glowed.

The light in her blue eyes dimmed almost as quickly and she shook her head. “I can’t work,” she whispered, rubbing at a bracelet on her wrist. 

Derek recognized the medical alert bracelet, but couldn’t see the words that were inscribed on the back. “That’s a shame. I need someone just a couple of hours a week, after school.” She frowned, shoulders slumped. “You know, I used to be a paramedic in New York,” he offered, the words matter-of-fact, but he didn’t miss the spark on her face.

“I’m epileptic,” she explained. “I got fired from my last two jobs for missing too much work. At least, that’s what they said. It happened with the second job right after I had a seizure in front of the customers.” She ran her fingers over the petals of some roses in a blue glass vase. “My parents decided it would be better if I didn’t work.”

“There was a little boy that lived across the hall from me in New York with epilepsy, so even without my training, I know how to handle a seizure.” Erica gave a small smile. “I can talk to them,” Derek offered. “Your parents. I mean if you want to work here.”

Erica nodded. “I’d really like that.”

They made arrangements for Erica to bring her parents by the next day after school and Derek gave her a business card in case she had any questions. She was getting ready to leave when Derek thought of something. “Hey, do you know Stiles Stilinski?”

“Mr. Stilinski? Yeah. He works for the school district on the computers and runs the computer club at the high school,” Erica told him.

Derek smiled at a little more knowledge about Stiles. He must head straight from the shop at nine a.m. to work each day. “Random question, but you don’t know how he takes his coffee, do you?”

She shook her head. “My mom might. She works at the diner. I’ll ask.” She gave him another smile and a wave as she exited the shop, her head held a little higher than it had when she entered.

Derek watched her go, surprised she hadn’t been alarmed or curious about Derek’s question. He could tell she was going to be a good addition to the shop, he just hoped her parents would give her permission to take the job. He didn’t have very long to think about it though because the bell above the door sounded again and another group of teens came inside, talking loudly and disturbing the quiet of the shop. After the number of orders the day before, either Beacon Hills High School’s population had exploded or someone was busing in kids from other towns.

Derek was up early the next morning, putting together a few arrangements for orders and starting the coffee maker. As it spit out the last few drops, he thought back to the phone call he’d gotten from Erica the night before; besides letting him know that her parents were looking forward to meeting him, she’d told him, “Three sugars. Dash of cream.” As he doctored the coffee, he knew there was no guarantee that Stiles would be stopping by that day, but he had a cup ready as he went to unlock the door anyway. His lips tugged into a smile at Stiles’ sleepy face pressed against the glass next to the door.

He opened the door slowly and waved the cup under Stiles’ nose, chuckling when his nostrils flared and he made grabby hands towards Derek without opening his eyes. Moving backwards, the cup held out in front of him, he led Stiles to the counter before relinquishing the coffee. “Blessings upon you and your house,” Stiles muttered as he inhaled deeply before taking a large sip. His eyebrows shot into his hair as he swallowed. “How?”

“Magic,” Derek responded, shrugging one shoulder up as he made his way back to the arrangement he’d been working on when the coffee finished up. “How can I help you today, Stiles?”

“Blue and orange,” he responded, taking another sip of coffee as his attention was drawn to the sign above the counter, prices listed. Derek had spent part of the night adding drawings to the edges to make it more appealing and it appeared to be working. 

“Small or large?” Derek asked, making a face at the odd combination of flowers.

“Same as I’ve been getting,” Stiles responded, digging his card out and laying it on the counter as he walked away cutting off any other conversation Derek might have attempted and he tried not to be offended, it wasn’t like they were friends; Stiles was just a customer, even if Derek might hope for more.

Completing the bouquet, he ran the card and called for Stiles who reappeared next to the counter looking slightly more awake, the now empty cup in his hand. “All set,” Derek told him and Stiles gave him a wide smile. “You know, if this is going to be a regular occurrence, I could put your credit card information on file so you wouldn’t have to keep giving it to me.”

Stiles grinned. “You, my dear flower man, are a genius! Set me up!”

Shaking his head, Derek opened a file on the tablet he used for orders and sales and put in the information. “I’m called a florist,” he teased.

“Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to,” Stiles picked up the flowers and grinned. “Perfectly hideous!” he squealed, heading towards the door. His called out, “See you tomorrow!” was cut off by the closing door and Derek sighed as he realized that he never got a chance to ask him anything personal, like why he buys flowers every morning.

The meeting with Erica’s parents went better than he’d hoped; both of them seemed relieved by the opportunity he was presenting and the safety he could provide for her. They agreed to start her out three hours a day, two days a week and see how it went from there. Derek was confident he’d have her up to the allowed fifteen hours a week in no time. Thankfully, they allowed her to start right away.

Her first shift was spent de-thorning and wiring roses in preparation for the boutonnieres and corsages he’d be making that night. She had bandaids on all of her fingers and a wide grin on her face when she said goodbye, Derek flipping the sign to closed behind her. Pulling down the blinds over the windows at the front of the store to hide the lights inside, he moved to the counter and picked up his iPod. He switched from the playlist he had for the workday to his own personal one, humming along under his breath as he settled in to twist and tie and create.

Derek sat up, his back protesting. A piece of ribbon was stuck to his face and he blinked uncomprehendingly at the workshop around him. Knocking, the sound that must have woken him, echoed through the shop. Squinting, he saw nothing except for the pulled blinds but he had a good feeling it was Stiles knocking on the glass. Struggling to his feet, he grumbled out a greeting as he opened the door and let him in, flipping the sign and opening the blinds as he did.

“Woah,” Stiles said. “Rough night?” he asked. “Or a good one?”

“Long,” Derek mumbled, poking at the coffee maker until it started working. “Coffee?”

“You need it more than me today,” Stiles teased, his eyes going to the cooler behind the counter, letting out a low whistle. “Did you make all those since yesterday morning?”

Derek followed his gaze, closing his eyes against the just under one hundred plastic clamshell containers he’d filled in the hours since Erica had left and he’d fallen asleep. “Since last night,” he grumbled. “Pickups will be starting any time now.” Although it was a full day of school, Derek remembered his sister skipping at least part of the day to get ready for dances.

“You’re going to need help,” Stiles decided.

“Hired Erica.” He inhaled deeply as the coffee began to pour into the carafe. “She’ll be here at three.”

“Erica Reyes?” he asked and Derek nodded. “Good girl. She’s in my Advanced Programming Program at the high school.”

He was dead on his feet, but Derek still saw the opening that had provided. “You teach?”

“I teach,” Stiles confirmed. “Computer Age Philosophy, but my students would rather watch t.v.”

Derek narrowed his eyes, turning from where he’d been getting cups down from the cupboard above the coffee maker. “Did you just quote _Rent_ to me?”

Stiles smacked his hands together, laughing loudly, his whole face lit up. “Damn! You got it in one! Color me impressed.”

“Smartass,” Derek mumbled, returning to his task. “How do you manage to be here when I open if you teach? Doesn’t school start at like seven?” He looked at Stiles, head tilted in question. “Is that why you’re always in a hurry?”

Stiles leaned against the counter, his posture more relaxed than previous mornings. “I don’t technically teach, I run an after school program three days a week. The rest of my forty hours are in the I.T. department for the school district, with some extra hours at the police department to help with their computers as well,” he said, ignoring the rest of the question and running his fingers over the counter. “I need another bouquet.”

“Of course you do,” Derek said, voice and smile fond. “What colors today?”

“Just something bright,” he said, eyes going to the shelves behind the counter next to the coolers. “Can you throw in one of those emoji balloons, too?”

“Sure.” He grabbed a simple smiley face emoji balloon and added yellow tulips with a bit of baby’s breath and one fern stalk. “This good?” he asked, handing it over when Stiles nodded.

“Your girlfriend’s very lucky,” Derek found himself saying, freezing when Stiles looked startled.

“What?”

Derek busied himself with the coffee maker, pouring cups for himself and Stiles, fixing them how they both liked. “Flowers every day. Must be-” he stopped talking when the bell above the door jingled and he turned to find the shop empty.

“Note to self,” he muttered. “No personal conversation.” He ran Stiles’ credit card information before pouring out the coffee he’d made for him. Thankfully, he still had some orders to finish to keep his mind occupied before the kids started coming in to pick up their flowers.

“Hey, bossman!” Erica called out as the bell jingled drawing Derek out from the storeroom in the back, a box of business cards in his hand. “Ready for the crazy?” she asked, coming around the counter and grabbing an apron off the hook along the wall.

“I am now,” he told her, grinning. He handed her the box. “We forgot to attach the business cards to the boxes last night. Tape’s behind you.”

“Right on it!” she sang out, grabbing the dispenser and heading towards the coolers, opening the first one and starting in on the task. “Did Mr. S stop by this morning?”

“He did,” Derek responded, organizing the order forms. “Got another bouquet with an emoji stick balloon.”

Erica nodded. “The after school program was cancelled today, so I wasn’t sure if he’d stopped by,” she explained.

Derek began to question her, but the bell rang and the door didn’t stop for another few hours. It had slowed down finally when the bell jangled and he looked up to see a high schooler in ripped jeans and a white henley with black raglan sleeves. He looked around nervously, his hand running over his smooth scalp.

Looking at the clock on the wall, Derek noticed that the dance had already started. He looked from the boy to the empty cooler before giving him a confused smile. “How can I help you?”

“Boyd!” Erica called from where she’d appeared from the back room; she’d been washing out some of the empty buckets. “What are you doing here? I thought you were going to the dance!”

He ducked his head, looking smaller. “Didn’t have anyone I wanted to go with,” he muttered.

Derek watched the two of them. “Erica, can you bring out the roses from the back coolers before you go home?”

“Sure thing, boss!” she said, disappearing again. 

Derek pulled open the cooler he was standing next to, pulling out one red rose and turning to hand it to Boyd. “What’s this?” 

Derek smiled and reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, taking out two bills and holding them out to Boyd. “Give the rose to Erica and use this to take her to dinner.” 

“Sir-”

“Derek,” he corrected. “You like her, yeah?” Boyd smiled shyly, nodding. “Too afraid to ask her out?” He shrugged. “Do you need a job?” He figured he could get some time to himself if he had two of them working for him, even if he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be able to afford them both right then.

“Nah, I work at the ice rink, but thanks,” he said, smile growing when Erica came out from the back, struggling with the bucket. 

Boyd hurried around the counter to take it from her and Derek hid a smile behind his hand, watching them interact. Her eyes lit up when Boyd whispered something in her ear, her head nodding and a smile splitting her face. “Have fun,” he said when she asked if she could take off. “I’ve got this place handled for tonight.”

The teens left, Derek’s presence already forgotten and he felt a bit of pride at being a part of facilitating their relationship; he thought they would make a good team. He approached the front of the shop, reaching to flip the sign when the door was yanked open and Stiles appeared in front of him. “You know the sun is going down not up, right?” he joked.

Stiles grinned, lifting up a grease-stained paper bag up to eye level. “I thought you might be hungry after flowering all the kids in town,” he said with a leer.

Smiling, Derek held the door open and gestured for Stiles to enter. “I’m hoping you didn’t mean to make that sound as perverse as it did.” He closed and locked the door behind him, flipping the sign.

Stiles shrugged, setting the bag down on the counter. “You win some, you lose some.” He opened the bag. “I have absolutely no idea what you do or don’t eat and I don’t have magic like you apparently have, so I bought a little bit of everything from the diner.” He started pulling out wrapped items. “Two burgers. One veggie burger. Four orders of curly fries. Shit.”

Derek wrinkled his nose as he pulled stools out from behind the workbench and brought them to the counter. “Not so sure I want any of the last one.”

Stiles laughed, sharp and loud. “Good one. I forgot the drinks. They’re either on the counter or…” He trailed off and smacked himself in the forehead. 

“Or?” Derek prompted.

“Or they are the thump I heard as I was pulling out of the parking lot,” Stiles finished, face flushed. 

Derek’s chuckle filled his chest before escaping his lips. “Well, we can have coffee or I think I have a couple of beers in my fridge.”

“We can do coffee,” Stiles said. “Don’t want to make you run all the way home.”

Derek pushed to his feet. “I’ll make you a deal,” he said and Stiles looked interested. “If I’m not back by the time you finish singing the theme song to... _Greatest American Hero_ , I’ll buy dinner next time.”

“You’re on!” Stiles said before breaking into song. “Look at what’s happened to me, I can’t believe it myself…”

Derek was pleasantly surprised by Stiles’ singing voice but wasn’t about to let himself get drawn in and lose the bet. Racing towards the back of the shop, hearing the stutter in Stiles’ singing as he disappeared, he hurried up the stairs to his apartment. He tripped over the edge of the rug at the top, cursing as he crashed to the ground, thankful that his reflexes saved him from kissing wood, before scrambling to his feet. 

He made it to the fridge, grabbing four beers and headed back down the stairs, leaping down the last three steps and landing solidly just as Stiles belted out, “Believe it or not, it’s just meeeeeee!”

“Made it!” Derek smirked, putting two of the bottles on the counter and storing the other two in one of the coolers. Returning to the counter, he grabbed his bottle and twisted off the cap, spinning it on its edge on the countertop.

Stiles repeated the action with his bottle, but he used his thumb and index finger to shoot the cap across the counter, hitting Derek’s and sending them both off the edge of the counter. “Score!” he shouted, holding both arms over his head.

Shaking his head, Derek reached for a curly fry and the veggie burger. “Thanks for this,” he said around his first bite. 

“I figured you didn’t really know anyone and I knew you would be too busy to get food for yourself today,” he responded. “Plus, my dad’s working late and my best friend, Scott, is on vacation. Lydia and I were going to go to dinner, but she cancelled.” 

Derek frowned, trying to sort out the names. Scott had gotten an identifier, but Lydia did not and he wondered if that was Stiles’ girlfriend. He had a few comments on the tip of his tongue, but all of them were bitter and so he kept them quiet by taking a large bite of the burger. “This is great,” he said after he finished chewing.

“Tell my dad that, would you? He complains every time I get him one,” Stiles said. “So, what possessed you to leave the big city to come back here?”

“I don’t know if you know that I grew up here,” Derek said and Stiles nodded, his eyes flashing with sympathy so he knew he didn’t have to explain why he’d left in the first place. He started talking about New York and how out of place he’d always felt there, how it had never felt like home. “When the opportunity to turn this building into a shop as well as a residence came up, it felt like a sign. Laura wasn’t as excited about it as I was, but she said I’d lived in New York for her long enough that she could return the favor.” He swallowed hard as he remembered her. “She is...was a great sister.”

Stiles laid a hand over Derek’s on the counter. “She still is,” he whispered and Derek nodded his thanks.

They spent the rest of the time eating talking about the town, Stiles talked about growing up there. It wasn’t until after Stiles had left and Derek was locking up behind him that he realized in the entire time they were talking that he hadn’t learned anything about Stiles’ life as it was right then. He felt like he knew everything about Stiles as a kid up until he’d graduated from college, but after that there was nothing. 

Saturday morning, Derek opened the door, flipping the sign, surprised to find the sidewalk in front of the shop empty. The sun was bright in the sky, the temperature predicted to be warm but not too hot so he pulled out a couple of display tables and set up small fall-themed bouquets and collectables. He propped the door open and headed inside to start the coffee pot.

Once the coffee was ready, he filled a mug and went to stand in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and watching the street outside. He remembered growing up here and walking the main street with his mother, shopping the local businesses and greeting everyone. He thought back to Ms. Cordelia and her table outside this very building and the times they’d visited her; she’d been such a lovely woman and he had to close his eyes and tilt his head back to stop the tears from falling as he thought about her.

When he got his emotions under control, he opened his eyes and startled just a bit to find Stiles standing in front of him, a concerned frown on his face. “Alright?”

“I will be,” Derek told him. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Stiles said, following Derek into the store and hopping up on the stool he’d been sitting on the night before and leaning his elbows on the counter, watching Derek pour and fix the coffee. “Mrs. Reyes ratted you out. I knew you weren’t magic.”

Derek smirked when he turned and handed over the mug he’d found in a box in one of the rooms upstairs. It was shaped like a fox’s head and the expression on its face had reminded him of Stiles and since he didn’t seem to be in a hurry, it seemed like the perfect time to hand it over to him. He knew he’d done the right thing when Stiles’ eyes sparkled and his lips quirked up into a smile. 

Taking another sip of his coffee, he moved to the coolers. “What are you looking for today?” Derek asked.

“Uh...nothing,” Stiles said, eyes focused on his mug as he turned it in his hands. “Just thought I’d stop by and say hi.” He looked up when Derek settled on the stool across from him. “I had fun last night and Scott and Lydia are busy…”

The tension in the room was thick and Derek felt like an asshole even though he didn’t know exactly what he’d done wrong. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on his tablet and he got an idea. “Hey, you’re good with computers, right?”

“The school district seems to think so,” he said, his smile returning to his face and Derek mirrored it. “Why?”

“I was thinking of making a website for the shop?” 

“I can do that,” Stiles said, rubbing his hands together and laughing in a way that made Derek nervous. “Let me go grab my laptop and we can get started.”

“How much do-”

“Don’t even ask,” Stiles said, face stern in mock fierceness and Derek held his hands up in surrender and Stiles hurried out the door.

Derek wasn’t sure how long Stiles was going to be gone, so he started going over the shelves with a duster. It was really just busywork; Erica had done a great job on them the day before between customers but until someone new came in looking for flowers, he didn’t really have much to do. He rearranged the animal vases and tested the dirt, deciding they needed a bit of water.

Grabbing a mister bottle from behind the counter, he spritzed them, lost in his concentration. When Stiles came back into the store, shouting out his return, Derek startled and whipped around spraying Stiles in the face before he could react.

“I’m so sorry!” Derek shouted, flinching and relaxing when Stiles started laughing and wiped at his face, waving off Derek’s apology.

“Dude, that was just the wake-me-up I needed,” he said. He held up his computer bag. “You ready to do this?”

Derek led Stiles behind the counter and watched him get set up. “You’ve got good WiFi strength,” he said once Derek had given him the password.

“I used to watch Netflix a lot in New York, thought I’d do that here, too, and I hate when it buffers,” Derek explained. “And that is the extent of my internet knowledge.”

Stiles snorted. “So, what have you been watching?”

“Nothing since I moved here, but I like cooking competition shows,” he said. “I used to try to convince Laura to sign up with me. She would just laugh at me.”

“You any good?”

“I do alright,” Derek returned. “I worked at a bakery part-time when I was getting my paramedic training.”

“Baker, paramedic, florist...a real renaissance man.” Stiles hit a few more keys. “I can cook, but I can’t bake for anything. The only baking show you’d see me on is _Nailed It!_ ”

“Haven’t seen that one,” Derek admitted and stepped backwards when Stiles whirled around on him. “What?”

“You have not seen the genius that is Nicole Byer and her regular harassment of the Thor-like Wes?!” he nearly screeched. “Oh no, no. No, no. No. This will just not do. The website is on hold, unless…” Stiles picked up Derek’s tablet. “Do you have Netflix on this thing?”

Taking the tablet back, Derek downloaded the Netflix app and logged in before handing it back to Stiles. “We have to pause if I get a customer.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stiles said, finding the show and starting the first episode.

Derek watched in silence, his attention going between the tablet screen and what Stiles was doing on the laptop. It was about halfway through the first episode and the disastrous cake pops revealed when Stiles spoke up and Derek gladly paused the show, ignoring Stiles’ pout.

“So, _blackbirdbloom.com_ is available for purchase,” Stiles told him. “Unless you want to come up with something else?”

Derek frowned, shaking his head. “No, I think that would be perfect unless you were thinking .net would be better?”

“No, I meant like _hotfloristguy.com_ or something like that,” Stiles said, fingers flying over the keys and Derek could feel the warmth in his cheeks traveling up to the tips of his ears. 

Clearing his throat, Derek squeaked out, “No, the shop's name is fine.”

“You’re no fun, but we can always do a redirect link from the other one later because we could so market it…” He trailed off and his eyes widened as he looked up at Derek.

“Brain finally catch up with your mouth?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded, his own face turning a pink that probably rivaled Derek’s. “You think I’m hot?” he asked before he thought better of it.

Stiles flailed his arms about and Derek tried to follow as he pointed at various parts of the store. “Dude, you are literally surrounded by mirrored surfaces! You know you’re hot!” His movements suddenly stilled, arms dropping to his side. “I am going to stop talking now.” Twisting around on the stool, he focused hard enough on the screen, Derek was surprised it didn't shatter under the strength.

Derek watched him for a few moments, struggling to come up with something to say to disperse the sudden tension between them, but everything he came up with would probably just make it worse; he was so not good at people. He started to say something, he wasn’t even sure what, when the bell above the door sounded and a couple of middle-aged women dressed in exercise gear entered.

“Welcome to Blackbird Bloom,” Derek called out, ignoring the snort that Stiles gave. 

One of the women threw a glare at him that quickly morphed into a look of horror before melting into something Derek was all too familiar with and made him want to run up the stairs to his apartment and hide under the bed. He hesitated to step out from behind the counter and when he glanced over at Stiles, the bastard’s lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes were dancing with glee.

“Hello,” the woman who had glared purred as she approached the counter, putting her elbows on it and leaning in so that her cleavage was showing through her suddenly lowered zipper on her track jacket. “You must be new in town.”

Derek swallowed and reminded himself she might be a paying customer and telling her to get the hell out of his shop would be a bad idea. “Not really, ma’am,” he said, biting back a smirk when the woman flinched at the title before frowning. “I grew up here and just moved back.” He held his hand out over the counter, forcing the woman to stand up to take it. “Derek Hale.”

The other woman walked up next to them, her face set in a mask of faux sympathy that turned his stomach. “Laura’s brother?” She clucked her tongue and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I knew Laura in high school; she was such a great girl.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know a lot of her friends,” Derek said, trying to place the woman’s face among the remembered packs of girls that hung out at their house after school, giggling and screeching and taking over every room of the house driving him out and into the preserve where he spent his time hiking and learning about the flora surrounding their house.

“Oh, my name’s Vanessa Hunter,” she said, smiling.

Derek strained to keep smiling but the expression on the woman’s face told him he had failed. He remembered the name because Laura used to complain about her constantly. The girl had been a queen bee at school that did everything she could to make Laura miserable, going so far as to make up stories to various teachers that had nearly led to a suspension if it hadn’t been for their mother stepping in and a couple of other students defending Laura.

“I remember Laura mentioning you. My mother, too,” Derek said, his smile morphing into one of triumph when the woman stepped away from the counter.

“Hunter?” Stiles spoke up without looking away from the screen of the laptop. “Any relation to Marissa?”

“She’s my little sister,” she said. “Do you know her?” Her voice became friendly again.

“Yep, she’s a bitch. Tried to accuse my friend of cheating when she won Prom Queen,” Stiles said, finally looking up when the girl scoffed.

“You’re friends with that Argent bitch? Figures,” she snorted and grabbed her friend by the jacket and stormed out of the store.

“Argent?” Derek asked, whipping his head to look at Stiles, his breath catching in his chest. 

“Her niece,” Stiles responded and Derek was horrified that he had known what Derek was thinking. “And she’s nothing like her aunt and her father basically disowned her after what she did.”

Derek dropped onto the stool next to Stiles, head in his hands as his mind went back to the worst time in his life. He’d been only sixteen years old, around Erica’s age, and one of the substitute teachers at school had started showing an interest in him. At the heart of it, he knew it was wrong, but it was a boost to his fragile ego at the same time, especially in the wake of the tragic death of his first girlfriend.

The sub, Kate Argent, encouraged Derek to sneak out with her and he’d done it. It wasn’t until after she’d seduced him in the backseat of his car that it hit him just how wrong the situation had been and he’d broken it off with her. The next night, while Derek and Laura had still been at school, Kate had gone to his house and burned it down with his family inside. She’d taunted him with what she had done and eventually been arrested, but Derek had been so out of it at that point he'd barely noticed her arrest and the trial. He tried not to spare a thought to her, but he did know she was still in prison.

He jumped when Stiles put a hand on his back. He sat up, wiping at his eyes and rubbing his hands over the tips of his ears hoping they weren’t as red as they were hot. “Sorry about that.” Derek shrugged. “No, it’s alright to be upset. What happened to you was shitty.”

“I don’t know why I was surprised you knew,” Derek said. “I’m sure it was the talk of the town when it happened. The stupid high school kid and the psychotic substitute.”

“Not in the way you think,” Stiles told him, pushing the laptop to the side and turning to face Derek. “Mostly, people spoke of what a great family the Hales were, the sadness of the loss to the community, the poor boy who had been taken advantage of by the insane woman.” Derek snorted. “It’s true.”

Derek studied Stiles’ face, looking for any hint of mockery but saw nothing but sincerity and even though Derek knew he wasn’t the greatest judge of intention, he was going to choose to take Stiles at his word. He looked for words to express what was going through him but he ended up just smiling softly and whispering, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Stiles said, his grin growing as he turned back to the laptop and cracked his knuckles. “Back to business. Unpause Nicole and tell me what you would like to accomplish with your website?”

The next morning, Derek woke late, the sun coming through his east-facing window warmed his face long before the light forced him to squint and bury his face in his pillow. He debated going back to sleep, he and Stiles had worked on the website until long after closing before ordering carryout and watching Netflix until the wee hours of the morning, but his bladder forced him out of bed and into the bathroom.

Once he was more comfortable, he headed into the kitchen to grab a light breakfast, deciding he’d take a run that morning in the preserve, maybe go by the site of the old house while he was still off-kilter from the night before. He’d always found it easier to deal with the memories when they’d already been brought forward by something else and he hadn't been back since he’d moved back to town. 

He picked up his tablet and pulled up the website; it wasn’t much yet, just information about the store and himself. He’d argued with Stiles that no one cared about him but he’d lost the argument when Stiles held up his phone and demanded a photo. Derek had fought him on it, but after a couple of beers, he’d given in and put up with the impromptu photoshoot. The more photos that Stiles took, the more ‘artistic’ he got and Derek had hoped it wasn’t one of the later photos that Stiles would decide to use.

Of course, his hopes were dashed when Stiles chose the one of him sitting on the metal circular stairs at the back of the shop leading up to his apartment. He was in a black shirt and most of the photo was shadowed, allowing his face to be the focus of the photo. He’d stayed in that spot the longest, going through half a dozen different facial expressions at Stiles’ whim but he’d finally decided on the one that hadn’t been directed. It was the first one that had been taken when Derek was already over all the photos and leveled what Stiles nicknamed his Broody McBrooderson face. 

He read over the bio and found it even more ridiculous than the photoshoot. He hadn’t even realized what Stiles was doing when he’d asked him how he’d gotten into flowers. He’d grinned when he’d told Stiles it had actually started as a way to get his sister off his back when she kept trying to push him out of the apartment when he’d first moved to New York. The class he’d signed up for at the local senior center had been just him and a bunch of old ladies and he’d gone in fully intending to quit after one day and just pretend he was going to the classes to appease Laura but after making carnation milkshakes in the first class, he realized he’d enjoyed it and the women in the class were really kind to him. Some of them had reminded him of Ms. Cordelia and so he’d kept going back for the duration of the course. 

When the class was done, the instructor, Judith, offered him a job in her shop and he worked there a couple of days a week for extra money. It was a good change of pace from the craziness of life as a paramedic in New York City. He remembered making bouquets and taking them to some of the more severe cases he’d transported to the hospital, the joy and appreciation on the patients’ faces helping him deal with the cases that didn’t end as well. It had actually been Judith who’d encouraged him to open his own shop when he’d told her about the change in status of the building. Once Laura had okayed it, Judith had helped him design it and set up the business plan. He reminded himself to call her after his run and let her know how it was going. 

Putting down the tablet, he went to change and thought over some of the other things he and Stiles had discussed the day before about adding to the site. They’d gone back and forth about online ordering since he didn’t have anyone to do deliveries during the day at the moment, but Stiles had said they could leave deliveries until certain hours as long as they were clearly stated. Derek still wasn’t entirely convinced, but thought about putting out feelers in an attempt to hire a driver.

Stopping in the shop, Derek gathered together a small bouquet of yellow roses, his mother’s favorite, and held them in his hand as he set out, careful not to crush it as he ran. It didn’t take as long to reach the remains of the house as he’d thought and he was only a little startled all that was left was the stone walls of the basement. He did a lot of compartmentalizing whenever Laura talked about the house, locking away the thoughts and storing them in the dark recesses of his brain, but as he stood on the edge of the basement, he remembered Laura making arrangements with the local sheriff to have the rest of the damaged house taken away. Vague glimpses of Laura trying to convince him to rebuild once they’d moved back snuck into his active thoughts but as his throat tightened around tears as he laid the roses at the edge of the walls, he knew that he wasn’t ready for that yet.

He allowed his tears to fall, let himself feel everything that he usually tamped down until he felt a calm wash over him, similar to how he’d felt whenever his mother would pull him into a hug as a child. Smiling and whispering, “I love you,” he set off again. Instead of turning right back towards the store, he turned left and followed the trail through the preserve to the back wall of the cemetery. 

He stopped at the small iron gate set into the brick, peering through to take in the grounds. A young kid stood, shoulders hunched, out by an open grave. A man radiating anger loomed over him, making the boy appear even smaller. Derek couldn’t make out what the man was saying, but the tone of the man’s voice was angry and made Derek’s own shoulders hunch. He thought about leaving but found himself pushing through the gate instead, following the path towards his family crypt which took him right by the man and boy. As he drew closer, the man stormed off leaving the kid struggling to cover the pile of dirt next to the grave with a tarp and set up a casket lowering device all by himself.

Derek raised his hand in a wave as he passed and the kid flinched before catching himself and waving back. Slowing his pace, Derek stepped up to the side of the grave. “Hi,” he greeted, keeping his voice low.

“Hello.”

“I’m Derek. I just moved back to town.” He watched the kid busy himself with the equipment, his hands shaking and when he looked up at him from under his curls, he saw the yellow-green of a fading bruise across his cheek.

“I know. My friend Erica works at your shop,” he said, moving to the next strap. “I’m Isaac.”

Derek vaguely remembered her mentioning the name when they were talking about school but he couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said. “You like working here?” 

Isaac shrugged. “I work with my dad.” He frowned when Derek didn’t comment. “It’s a job.”

He hesitated before asking his next question, but his mind was still on the conversation he’d had with Stiles the night before. “Do you have a license?”

“Yeah….”

“I’m looking for more help around the shop, someone to do deliveries,” Derek explained. “Do you think you’d be interested? I can probably match what you make here.” He wasn’t sure if he could, but there was something that was urging him to convince this boy to come work for him.

“Yeah,” Isaac said, nodding, one corner of his mouth going up in a shy smile. “I would like that.”

“Great.” Derek held out his hand and they shook. “Stop by the shop tomorrow night around five. It’s closed, but I live above it, so come around back and knock and we’ll get you set up.”

“Five? I can do that,” Isaac agreed, his smile while still shy was full and warmed Derek from the inside.

He continued down the path, feeling lighter as he watched Isaac moving a bit faster and if his shoulders stayed a bit more squared when the man that must be his father returned, then Derek was even more confident about his decision. His pace slowed as he approached the crypt where his family was interred, stopping a few feet away. He wished he’d brought more flowers and decided the next day he would. Maybe some of the gladiolas that he’d ordered but not sold that week; his aunt had loved those and he remembered his Uncle Peter bringing them to her at least once every couple of weeks just to make her smile.

The sun was high in the sky by the time he decided to leave. Isaac was gone and he could see a funeral procession just turning in the front gates so he headed back to the gate he’d entered through. He was a few feet away when he was stopped by something blowing in the wind in front of a grave a few feet away. Approaching, he knelt down and ran his finger gently over the petals of one of the yellow tulips that had opened only slightly more than it had been when Stiles had carried it out of the shop the previous morning. 

He looked at the headstone, unsurprised, but still saddened to see the name Stilinski engraved into the stone. One side of the stone was engraved with the name Claudia along with birth and death dates and Derek frowned at the empty square where he knew one day the Sheriff’s name would appear, he just hoped it wouldn’t be any time soon. A quick calculation told him that Stiles had only been eight when his mom had passed away and it had been only a few months before the fire. Running a hand over the headstone, he made a mental note to bring fresh tulips the next day along with the flowers for his family.

He chose to walk slowly back to the shop instead of continuing his run, his mind full of thoughts and memories. He was passing a small diner when he heard tapping on glass. Turning his head, he smiled at Erica and Boyd who were sitting in a booth by the window. He waved and when they gestured for him to come in and join them, he pulled his still sweaty shirt away from his skin and waved a hand in front of his nose, but their faces just grew more determined and their gestures more insistent.

He was about to just keep walking, figuring they wouldn’t be able to stop him anyway when the door to the diner opened. Sounds poured out into the street as well as the aroma of fresh bacon and pancakes. He admitted defeat when his stomach rumbled loudly.

He saw more than heard the two cheering as he grabbed the door before it closed and headed inside, smiling at the classic diner decor and the waitresses and uniforms that looked straight out of the fifties. As one woman ran past, smiling at him, her white hair up in a twist and her bright red lipstick bleeding a bit at the edges, he wondered if she’d been working there since the time the uniforms were in style.

He slid into the booth across from Erica and Boyd who already had coffee in front of them. He picked up one of the menus and looked it over as he greeted them. They talked about Erica’s schedule and Derek tried again to get Boyd to pick up a few hours but the boy refused. “I’ve got a lot of homework and the ice rink is flexible and pays really well.” 

Erica’s mom approached the table, order pad out and a smile on her face. “What can I get you, Derek?” she asked.

“One of everything?” Derek asked, teasing and she rolled her eyes and pushed at his shoulder. “I’ll take an egg white omelet with spinach and mushrooms with a side of bacon and a half-stack.”

“Hashbrowns? Toast?”

“Yes, crispy and whole wheat,” Derek supplied, ignoring the way Erica was gaping at him. “Hey, I’m a growing man.”

“The question is which way,” Erica teased, ducking when her mom slapped a hand at her before she headed behind the counter, hollering out the order through the window into the kitchen. 

The three of them talked for a little while, Derek still trying to convince Boyd to come work for him, but only doing it to tease by that point. He dropped the subject when their food arrived. He poked at his omelet with a fork before adding some hot sauce and then looking up at them, remembering his conversation at the cemetery. “What can you tell me about Isaac?”

Erica dropped her spoon into her bowl, splashing oatmeal onto the table. Boyd set his fork down and folded his hands on the table, studying Derek. “You know Isaac?”

“I met him this morning,” Derek told them. “Offered him a job at the shop.”

The teens stared at Derek and he had to fight the urge to get out of the booth and leave to escape the feeling of his skin being peeled back and his darkest secrets being revealed; these kids were downright scary sometimes. Just as he shifted his weight, Erica’s face broke into a smile and she leapt out of the booth and climbed into his side, throwing her arms around Derek. “You’re the best. I can’t tell you why, but getting him a job somewhere other than the cemetery is awesome!”

“To get him away from his father? For at least part of the day?” Derek ventured and sighed when Erica nodded into his shoulder. He’d had suspicions about Isaac but having them confirmed made his anger rise and he wanted to go back and rip that man apart; he’d never understand how any parent could harm their own child. 

Boyd’s hand over his on the table pulled his thoughts away from dark places he didn’t want to go. “He’s a good kid. Thank you.” It was clear the two of them cared about Isaac and although he barely knew them, he trusted their judgement and knew for certain he’d done the right thing hiring Isaac.

Derek nodded and Erica returned to her spot beside Boyd. The three of them ate, talking quietly as they did. Once the food was gone and the check dropped off, Derek grabbed it before Boyd could. “I’m the adult here,” he said, smiling before laughing. “Oh god, what are the rumours going to be that I spend my free time with teenagers?” 

He stood up to take the check to the cash register, handing it and his credit card over to Mrs. Reyes. He turned to say something when his gaze caught a bouquet of sunflowers and tulips next to the register and he knew if he counted there would be three of each bloom. Shaking his head, he turned back to the teenagers, slightly frightened by the smirk on Erica’s face.

“You could always get Tinder or something?” Erica suggested. “Find some people your own age to ‘hang out’ with.” He really did not like what the air quotes and smirk on her face implied.

Derek rolled his eyes, handing a tip over to Erica’s mom before heading toward the door. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Me, too,” Boyd said. “Work starts in a half-hour and I have to get Erica home. You should come by the rink sometime, I can get you in for free.”

Derek grinned. “I’ll have to take you up on that so you can all laugh at me falling on my butt. I’ll see you at work Tuesday,” he said to Erica who nodded and threw her arms around him again. Derek had a feeling he was going to have to get used to being the subject of physical affection and he really couldn’t find it a hardship as he returned the hug.

He was smiling and humming under his breath as he finished the walk back to the shop, greeting people as he passed. He stopped to pet a large dog that had jumped up on him, the owner apologizing profusely as Derek rubbed at the dog’s scruff and pressed a kiss between his ears. When he got back to the shop, he went around back to head up to his apartment for a shower and possibly a nap.

He stopped when he saw Stiles sitting on the bottom step leading into the back door of the shop. “Lost?” Derek asked, grinning when Stiles looked up squinting his eyes and shielding them against the sun beating down on Derek’s back. “I’d give you directions to your house but I don’t have the slightest idea where that is.”

“Gonna make it tough for you to join me and my dad for dinner tonight, then,” Stiles said, pushing himself to stand and handing over a slip of paper. “Dad said he’d been wanting to invite you since you got back to town, but you don’t answer your phone.”

Derek rubbed his hand over the back of his neck and looked sheepish. “I broke my cell when I was moving in and haven’t replaced it. I’ve been using the shop’s phone.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved Derek in the shoulder. “My number’s on there as well as the address. _When_ you go get a new phone this afternoon,” he said, voice pointed, “call and let me know if you can make it for dinner. Just remember, saying no to the sheriff is never a good idea.”

“I’ll be there,” Derek said, chuckling. “And I’ll get a new phone. After I shower.”

“Good idea. You reek.” Stiles laughed when Derek tried to pull him into a headlock, ducking out of his reach and jogging away down the alley. He climbed into an old Jeep that looked like it’d been around since before either of them had been born, but roared to life within seconds and only sounded a little rough.

Shaking his head, he wondered what he’d done to have Stiles bulldoze into his life and feeling entirely too grateful that he had. Stretching his arms over his head and feeling the muscles he’d worked hard that day on his run, he made a face at his own sweat stench and wondered how Erica and Boyd had put up with him in the diner. Laughing at himself, he headed into the building to shower since he now had a plan for the rest of his day.

Standing on the front porch of Stiles’ home later that night, Derek shifted the bag holding the bottle of wine he’d picked up so he was no longer crushing the small potted Anthurium that he’d had in the shop. He read once that they represented hospitality and hoped that Stiles and his father would like them. The waxy red of the blooms was pretty and the original reason he’d ordered them for the shop. Honestly, he wouldn’t even have known what they meant if it hadn’t been for one customer the other day who had driven him up the wall asking him what each and every flower and plant in the shop represented. He’d been extremely grateful for Google and his wifi connection that day. He had to admit the knowledge came in handy that day when he’d spotted the plant on the shelf and remembered the meaning. He just hoped Stiles and the Sheriff didn’t think he was being overly eager or strange.

The door opened to reveal Stiles with a grin on his face, wearing a soft pair of sweats and a Captain America shirt making Derek feel overdressed in his white button down and brown vest. He took a step backwards, every instinct in him telling him to make a polite excuse and run, but Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he reached out to pull Derek through the door, slamming it shut once he was inside the house.

“Uh uh, no way,” Stiles said, laughing as he took the plant from Derek and moved into the living room, leaving Derek no choice but to follow him. The Sheriff was seated on the couch, beer in one hand and remote in the other, flipping channels. His feet rested on the coffee table next to a vase holding the bouquet of orange and blue flowers that Stiles had bought from him, the blooms still bright and vibrant and one of the strangest color combinations he’d done to date.

He looked at the bouquet and up at Stiles who winked and disappeared through an opening, the sound of pots clattering telling him it was the kitchen. The Sheriff stood up and offered a hand to Derek. “Pleasure to see you, Derek. Stiles told me about your phone; I trust you got a new one.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Please, call me John,” he said, smiling. “Would you like a beer?” Derek nodded, unsure of his voice still in the man’s presence as he remembered him from all those years back after the fire and how kind he’d been to him. “Stiles, bring our guest a beer!”

“Yeah, yeah, dad!” Stiles shouted, appearing in the doorway the beer in his hand and a smile on his face. Derek jerked backward as he was hit with a memory of a much younger Stiles shouting the same thing at the police station while Derek was wrapped in a shock blanket, next to Laura, his world turned upside down. He’d been lost in thought when this ball of energy came running through the station and the Sheriff had held up a finger and turned to yell over his shoulder, “Kis, I told you to slow down."

“I’ve seen you before,” Derek said.

“Yeah, this morning,” Stiles said, handing over the beer in his hand. “And yesterday and the day before that…”

“No. I mean, yes, but no, before that. The night of the fire,” Derek explained, telling him what he’d remembered and Stiles nodded, frowning. “You probably don’t remember.”

“I do,” Stiles told him. “I wanted to hug you and your sister but my dad and the deputies told me to keep away.” He shrugged. “I’d just lost my mom and I couldn’t imagine losing everyone. I still can’t. In my young brain, hugs helped everything even if they didn’t always fix them.”

Derek’s throat and eyes burned as he struggled to find words, startling when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked back at John who gave him a sad smile. “Anyway, enough of that,” Stiles said, clapping his hands together as if it would dispel the darkness of the mood that fell over the room and it did seem to make a dent. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”

John went into the kitchen and Stiles gripped Derek’s bicep, looking him in the face. “Alright?” Derek nodded. “Terrible liar.”

A laugh burst out of Derek before he could stop it; it was a little dark, and a lot wet, but it was still a laugh. “Yeah, I am,” he agreed and followed Stiles into the kitchen, taking the chair Stiles indicated, putting himself between the other two men.

The conversation was stilted at first, but by the time their plates were empty, they were talking like they’d known each other for many years. Derek shared stories about New York and even talked about his family a bit, finding himself enjoying talking about them for the first time in recent memory. As Stiles brought out pie for dessert, only allowing a small slice for his father who huffed but gave his son a fond smile and winked at Derek, he was feeling something he hadn’t for a long time: at home.

Stiles walked him to the door, grinning and laughing at the pink tinting Derek’s cheeks due to something the Sheriff had teased him about. When they reached the door, Derek turned and said good night, hesitating and Stiles shook his head before grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. “See you Tuesday?” Derek asked. 

“Actually…” Stiles trailed off and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “I was hoping I might be able to bribe you into making a bouquet for me tomorrow? If you can’t do it, I can just head over to Fairvale to their flower-”

“Absolutely not,” Derek said, scoffing. “If you need flowers, you can get them from me.” He was grinning when Stiles laughed. “Is that where you got flowers before I opened?”

“That’s where everyone got flowers before you,” Stiles said. “I’m surprised they didn’t shut down after losing the Homecoming business.”

Derek hesitated again, the question on his lips and Stiles gestured with his hand to go on with whatever he was thinking. “I saw the flowers at the cemetery, the diner and here…”

“The other one is in the office at the school. Old Ms. Jones loves them. Her husband used to send them to her once a week at the school to let her know he was thinking about her while she was at work.” Stiles looked at his feet and rubbed at the back of his neck. “That first week when she came back to work after his funeral, I could see her mood fall when the flowers didn’t come. I know she didn’t really expect them, but...the next Tuesday because I don’t work Mondays, I picked up a bouquet and dropped it off in the office.”

“Does she know it’s you?” Derek asked, deciding there was no way he could possibly charge Stiles for Tuesday’s flowers anymore.

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably, but she smiles when she looks at them and that’s all that matters.”

“You do this every week?”

“I do all the flowers every week,” Stiles told him. “Tuesday is Ms. Jones. Wednesday is the diner because I love their curly fries. Thursday is my dad, the more obnoxious the better to make him laugh. Friday is my mom.”

“What about Mondays?” Derek asked. “Lydia?” He remembered Stiles mentioning the name a few times and John had mentioned her as well, but he didn’t know who she was.

Stiles laughed. “Only on her birthday and I’ll have to give you at least a week’s notice to order in enough flowers for those.” 

Derek’s face fell. Clearly, Lydia was someone special to Stiles and he knew that they were becoming friends, but a small part of him had started to hope that maybe there might be a chance at some point of something more. He’d thought the way Stiles looked at him, and his comments about his appearance while working on the website he wasn’t just wishful thinking, but-

“Stop whatever you’re thinking!” Stiles interrupted his thoughts. “Your eyebrows look like they’re going to murder someone and if it’s not me, then I’m guessing it’s the only other person we are discussing. Lydia is one of my best friends. I used to have a crush on her in high school before I realized I was gay.”

Derek grinned. “Me, too.”

Stiles’ eyebrows went up. “You used to have a crush on Lydia?”

Derek couldn’t have stopped the laugh if he’d tried and Stiles joined in. “So, tomorrow’s flowers?”

Stiles looked at him, eyes narrowed in thought. “How about, I take you to breakfast after I pick up the flowers and then I’ll show you.”

It was Derek’s eyebrows' turn to jump up. “Should I be scared?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles told him with a straight face before shoving him through the open door. “Now, go and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Derek groaned when the alarm on his phone went off, slapping at the nightstand and sending his phone flying to the floor. It skittered across the floor and he rolled off the bed, landing in a push-up position, doing a few before shoving himself to stand and cross the floor to snatch up his phone and shut off the alarm, double-checking it to be sure he hadn’t managed to break it within twenty-four hours of acquiring it. It took him a moment to remember why he’d set the alarm for so early on one of his days off, but when he did he hurried to shower and get ready to see Stiles.

He hit the bottom of the stairs when there was a knock at the back door. Opening it, he smiled at Stiles who was holding out an origami rose made out of a dollar bill in his hand. “I spent several hours watching YouTube videos to figure this out because I couldn’t very well buy something from the competition,” he said when Derek laughed and reached for the gift. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” Derek held the door open, gesturing for Stiles to enter.

He followed Stiles into the shop, stopping in the storage area to grab one of the two-dollar bud vases. He set it on the counter by the cash register before sliding the rose into it. “Now, what kind of arrangement do you need today?”

“Bright colors in a vase of some kind,” Stiles said. He was wandering through the store, long fingers running over the shelves. “Slightly larger than the others but not much.”

“Go pick out a vase,” Derek told him as he turned to the coolers eyeing the contents. His supply had been depleted but there was still enough to create what Stiles was looking for; he was just glad he’d be getting a shipment later that evening or he’d have nothing to offer the next day. As he was picking out flowers for Stiles’ bouquet, he grabbed a few blooms that looked to be near the end of their short life span. He’d been learning how to dry flowers and create wreaths and other decorations from them when he’d left New York so he wanted to give it a try.

Once he was done, he had a sizeable pile of flowers to dry and a small handful of blooms for Stiles that included a little of each bouquet he’d already made for the man. Setting up at the workstation, he carefully laid out one sunflower, two yellow tulips, one orange gerbera daisy, and two cornflowers. 

“Did you find-” He stopped when Stiles appeared in front of him, holding out a bright yellow mug shaped like a sunshine. “That’ll work.” He took the mug and set it on the counter before reaching for some floral foam and pressing it into the bottom. He used a spray bottle to dampen the foam and began to press the flower stems into the foam, filling out the bouquet with baby’s breath and ferns. He worked in silence for several minutes before reaching for a length of orange ribbon and tying it into a bow on the handle of the mug. “Done.”

“Perfect!” Stiles said, picking it up to admire it. “How much?”

“Depends,” Derek said, cleaning off the counter and taking the other blooms he’d pulled out and hanging them from a cord in the back with clothespins.

“On?”

“Who it’s for,” Derek told him. Standing back to look over the blooms, satisfied with their spacing. “If they’re for some girl, or guy, that you’re wooing, then it’s a hundred bucks.”

Stiles laugh was contagious and Derek joined in. “The only person I intend on wooing is you. I thought the rose told you that.”

Derek ducked his head but had been teased enough by his sister growing up to know that the heat he felt in the tips of his ears gave away his pleased embarrassment, especially going by the chuckle that Stiles let out. “Alright then. Free of charge, I guess.”

“You’ll never survive doing that!” Stiles argued. 

“Consider it a buy four, get one free deal,” Derek said and Stiles opened his mouth to argue. “Look, I refuse to charge you for Ms. Jones’ bouquets anymore because what you are doing is definitely sweet and you shouldn’t have to go broke to do it.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “I’ll pay every other week,” he countered and Derek rolled his eyes but nodded. 

They left the shop and got into Derek’s car, Stiles admiring the inside of the Camaro. “You definitely won’t be able to make deliveries in this,” he said. 

“I have another vehicle in the garage behind the shop,” Derek explained. “I just prefer driving this.”

“I would, too,” Stiles agreed as they pulled into the diner, giving Derek eager eyes.

“No,” Derek responded, voice strong but he knew the quirk at the corner of his lips gave him away. 

Breakfast was similar to dinner the night before, but Stiles upped the flirting so that there was no doubt in Derek’s mind that what was happening if not a date was damn close. Mrs. Reyes teased the both of them and playfully threatened to tell Erica about their little date, but then switched to a more serious tone when she thanked Derek for giving Erica and Isaac jobs at the shop.

“That reminds me. I’ll be back to the shop by five, right? Isaac’s stopping by to get set up.” Stiles’ face hardened. “What?”

“Just keep an eye on him, alright?” Derek nodded and watched as Stiles grabbed the bill before he could and went up to the register to pay.

“Where next?” Derek asked as they walked to the Camaro. 

“I don’t suppose you’d let me drive?” Stiles asked, eyes hopeful as Derek dangled the keys between them before snapping them back up into his hand and turning on his heel to unlock the driver’s side door. “Asshole,” he muttered, climbing in when Derek pushed the passenger side door open for him, smiling up at him as he looked over the top of his silver aviator glasses.

Stiles fiddled with his phone before the mechanical voice started giving directions. “You know I’ll be able to tell where we are when we get there?”

“So that is ten more minutes of suspense for you,” Stiles teased as Derek put the car into gear and backed out of the parking lot.

Derek looked up at the hospital when they arrived, frowning and hesitating to get out even as Stiles jumped out, an eager smile on his face. His uncle had been there after the fire, comatose, until one morning they got a call saying he’d passed in the night. Derek had never been a fan of hospitals in the first place, but this one made his blood run cold. 

“You don’t have to come in,” Stiles said, leaning into the passenger side and reaching for the mug of flowers on the floor. “I didn’t think…” He trailed off when Derek squared his shoulders and climbed out of the car.

“When I lived in New York and worked for Judith, we would make up ten bouquets of flowers every week and deliver them to the hospital. The charge nurse would give them to patients who didn’t have many visitors,” Derek told him, stumbling to a stop and turning to stare at Stiles who had stopped walking and was gaping at him. “What?” 

Stiles shook himself and caught up to Derek. “When my mom was here,” he started, voice quieter than Derek was used to and he held his breath as they continued toward the building at a slower pace. “My father used to bring my mom flowers every day and when she was still with it she would tell him he’d turned her room into a flower shop. One day she overheard the nurses talking about a woman in the room next to my mom’s that wasn’t doing well and how sad it was that no one ever visited or sent her flowers or anything. Immediately, my mom grabbed the most recent bouquet from my father and handed it to me and told me to take it to her.”

Stiles sniffled and Derek reached over to take his hand as the sliding doors opened, allowing them into the hospital. The woman behind the front desk looked up and grinned when she spotted them. “Stiles! It’s officially Monday now!” She turned her attention to Derek. “And you brought eye candy!”

Stiles stepped in front of Derek as if he could block him from the woman’s assessing gaze, their hands still linked. “Good morning, Vera,” he said. “Any suggestions for today’s delivery?”

He felt silly ducking behind Stiles, but his protectiveness of Derek made him feel warm and he was really trying to hide the pink he knew was covering his cheeks. When Stiles started moving, he allowed himself to be led toward the elevators. “Where are we headed?”

“Vera didn’t have any suggestions, so we’re going to see Scott’s mom,” Stiles told him as they stepped into the elevator and he pushed the button for the second floor and Derek’s hand tightened on Stiles’ as the doors opened and he recognized the long term care unit where his uncle had spent his final years. “It’ll be okay. I’m right here,” Stiles said, but didn’t drag Derek out, simply waited, holding the door open button on the elevator.

Derek nodded and stepped out, holding his breath for a moment before releasing it and smiling at the woman who approached, pulling Stiles into a hug and Derek was relieved he didn’t let go of his hand and pulled him along into the hug. The woman didn’t even hesitate to include Derek, smiling up at him. “Ah, the infamous Derek Hale,” she said when she let them go, one hand still on Derek’s arm. “It’s nice to meet you. This one never shuts up about you.”

“Lies and blasphemy!” Stiles hissed, laughing when Derek turned wide eyes to him. “This is Scott’s mom and it’s her life’s mission to embarrass me at every possible turn.”

“Just like a mom,” Derek said quietly, thinking of his mom and the number of times he’d turned impossibly red in her presence, squeezing Stiles’ hand when he nods, his eyes sad for a split second.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your-” She cut off when Stiles held up the mug. “Ah.” She looked thoughtful for a moment before turning and heading down the hall, gesturing for them to follow.

Derek hesitated. He couldn’t remember the exact room his uncle had been in, but he knew it was in that direction. His breath caught in his throat and he couldn’t convince his feet to move. Stiles smiled sadly at him, stepping into his space. “You don’t have to come with me. You can wait here or in the lobby or even back at the car. Heck, you can go home and I’ll catch a ride with someone else.” 

Derek shook his head and took a hesitant step, thinking back to the few times he’d been to visit his uncle before they’d moved to New York and how barren his room was; he didn’t want someone else to go through the same thing. Even if the person never woke up, a part of him wanted to believe they would know the flowers would be there. His next step was more confident and he met Melissa’s eyes who was watching them, her expression all too knowing and her smile open and friendly.

When they reached a room at the end of the floor, Melissa pushed the door open to reveal a small room lined with windows looking out over the preserve. He breathed a little easier knowing it wasn’t his uncle’s room. Looking over to the bed, his frown grew at the teenager lying there, hooked up to tubes and one of those horrifying halos around her head. Unlike his uncle, the girl’s eyes were open and her lips twitched when they entered.

“This is Alexandria. She was in a hiking accident a few weeks ago,” Melissa explained. “Alex, this is Stiles and his friend Derek. They brought you a present.”

Her eyes traced their movements and she grinned when Stiles held out the flowers. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft and tears springing to her eyes.

Derek moved the overbed table into Alex’s line of sight, gesturing for Stiles to put the flowers down where she could see them. “Are you-” He started to ask a question, but cut off when he realized it might be rude.

“Tell them,” she said, eyes on Melissa.

“Definite paralyzation from the middle of her back down. Possible from neck, but we’re hopeful the surgery she had will prevent that,” Melissa explained. “She’s doing great though.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, pulling a chair up next to the bed and dropping into it. 

“Yes.” Her eyes flicked to her hands and there was slight movement that might have been a tremor but then her thumb raised a bit.

“Thumbs up?” Derek asked and her grin grew. 

“That’s awesome, Alex!” Melissa said. “I’ll go tell your doctor now. Do you want me to kick these two out?”

“You want to stay?” her words were still hesitant and Derek wondered if it was from the accident or she was genuinely shy.

Stiles leaned back on the chair, kicking his feet up on the bed rail, careful not to jostle her, his hands behind his head. “Just try and get rid of us.” He grinned at Derek who sat down in the other chair. “Well, we have to leave eventually. Mr. Popular over there has a meeting.”

“Boring,” Alex said, a dry sound that was probably a laugh following the word.

Melissa excused herself and the three of them chatted, Alex mostly listening but contributing occasionally. When her lunch was delivered, the two of them said their goodbyes promising to come back to visit soon. They were almost to the elevator when Melissa stopped them. “Thank you. Her family is all back east and can’t afford to fly out,” she explained, which Alex had already told them. 

“She seems to be in great spirits,” Derek observed.

“She is, but she’s lonely, so today really helped.”

“I’ll be back,” Stiles said.

“ _We’ll_ be back,” Derek corrected and grabbed Stiles’ hand. “Now, let’s go get lunch.”

After lunch, they stopped by the Sheriff’s station to drop off lunch for John. They stayed and chatted for a few minutes and the deputies delighted in sharing embarrassing stories about Stiles as a kid and Derek was eating them up. The tables turned when one of the more senior members of the department started sharing similar stories about Derek. By the time they escaped, the both of them had sworn blood oaths to never share the things they had learned with another soul.

Derek didn’t really want to see the day end, but he had his meeting with Isaac and no way to get ahold of him to try and reschedule and he wanted to get him settled so he could start as soon as possible. Every time he thought about his father and the slight hints he’d gotten from Stiles and the others, his blood boiled and he wanted to wrap the boy in bubble wrap. 

He didn’t need to worry because Stiles followed him into the shop and up the stairs to his apartment. They had done a quick check outside to see if Isaac had arrived early, but there was no sign of the boy. They decided to make something to eat, figuring they could feed Isaac and if he didn’t want to eat, he wouldn’t. 

It wasn’t until they were plating up the stir fry and Derek glanced at the clock that he started to worry. It was a quarter to six and there had been no sign of Isaac. “Maybe he changed his mind,” Stiles suggested when Derek expressed his concerns, but the look on his face said he didn’t believe the words either.

They poked at their plates, neither of them eating and when the clock read six-thirty, they both rose and dumped their plates in the garbage. “Do you know where he lives?” Derek asked as he grabbed his jacket and Stiles zipped up his hoodie.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, stumbling backwards when Derek threw his keys at him.

“You drive.”

It wasn’t far to the house, located in the subdivision on the other side of the cemetery, but the ride was silent, the tension high and reaching a peak when they pulled into the subdivision and saw blue and red lights flashing off the sides of the houses around the first turn. Stiles sped up and Derek was already undoing his seatbelt and out of the car before he came to a complete stop in front of the two police cars blocking the end of what had to be Isaac’s driveway.

“Derek!” John shouted, grabbing him by the bicep to keep him from racing into the house. 

Whirling around, Derek saw Isaac’s father in handcuffs being put into the back of the police car and he could feel his muscles tensing. “Where’s Isaac?” he growled as Stiles came up and put a calming hand on the arm that the Sheriff wasn’t holding.

“We’re trying to find him,” John said, his grip tightening when Derek tried to pull himself free. “Running off half-cocked isn’t going to help anyone.”

“He knows!” Derek roared, pointing after the car taking Isaac’s father away.

“He’s not talking,” John said, voice calm. “Derek, listen to me. You need to calm down so I can help look for him.”

Those words got through. “I want to help, too.”

“Der-”

“Dad, what happened? Maybe we can help without destroying evidence,” Stiles said, looking pointedly at Derek who huffed, but crossed his arms over his chest and kept his mouth shut, both of the men releasing his arms.

The Sheriff’s face fell into seriousness, his voice turning professional as he told them about the 911 call that Isaac had placed. "He was on the line long enough to identify himself and state he needed help before the call ended. The dispatcher tried to call back but the phone kept going straight to voicemail. When the dispatcher called me, she stated that there was faint shouting and crashing in the back of the call and that Isaac’s voice was echoing." 

“Like he was in a small space?” Derek asked.

“We don’t know,” John said. “When we arrived, Mr. Lahey opened the door, his knuckles bloodied. He tried to refuse to let us in, but we had probable cause. We searched the house, but couldn’t find him.”

“If he got out, he would’ve found someone,” Stiles said, pulling his phone out. He stepped away and started talking and gesturing wildly while the Sheriff and Derek looked at each other helplessly. “Shit,” Stiles said, hurrying back over.

“Did you check the basement?” Stiles asked. 

“There’s no basement door,” The Sheriff said.

“Erica said it’s under the stairs and sometimes Mr. Lahey pushes a hutch filled with photos in front of it,” Stiles said.

The Sheriff hurried back toward the house and Derek went to go after him, but Stiles stopped him. “We have to stay back.”

“Why wasn’t this asshole arrested before?” Derek asked. “I know I don’t know everything, but what little I’ve seen and heard from Erica and you and others, it’s clear he’s been abusing Isaac.”

“Because we had no proof. Isaac never called 911 before,” Stiles told him. “And if we asked him about it, he shut us out. Everyone has tried to help him.”

They looked up to see the Sheriff and one of the deputies coming out, Isaac’s arms draped over their shoulders and his head hanging low. They hurried over and Isaac looked up at them, a gash on his left cheek and his fingertips bleeding. His pallor was waxy and his lips blue tinted. “Out of the way, we need to get him checked out.”

They moved out of the way for the paramedics and hopped into the Camaro, Stiles behind the wheel since he was calmer than Derek and they followed the ambulance to the hospital. They paced the waiting room for an hour before the Sheriff showed up, showered and changed into civilian clothes. “Anything?”

They both shook their heads and took the coffees that John handed them before settling into the chairs to wait. Derek was dozing off when a doctor came into the waiting room. “Friends of Isaac Lahey?”

The three of them stood and the doctor approached, running a hand through his hair and looking exhausted. Derek swallowed hard, the look on his face too similar to the ones he’d seen when the police had told him and Laura about their family. His breath stuttered and John and Stiles each wrapped an arm around him. Derek buried his face in Stiles’ neck and whimpered, certain the news would be bad.

“Mr. Lahey will be fine,” the doctor said and Derek’s breath left him in a rush. “We cleaned and bandaged his fingers, stitched up his cheek and he’s on oxygen until his O2 levels are back up to where we would like them.”

“How long will he be here?” John asked. “Have child services been contacted?”

“We will probably only be keeping him a day or two as he’s already showing improvement but we would like to observe him in case there are injuries we can’t see. A psychiatrist will be called in the morning to come talk to him.” John nodded and repeated his second question. “As far as child services is concerned, Isaac is eighteen years old as of today and not their concern.”

“Can we see him?” Stiles asked just as Erica and Boyd hurried into the waiting room, Mrs. Reyes and Boyd’s grandmother on their heels.

“He’s sleeping right now, but two at a time can go in for ten minute intervals,” the doctor explained. “He told us that other than his father he has no family, but that his friends were allowed.”

The doctor waited while John pointed at Erica and Boyd. “You two go in first. Then Derek and Stiles.”

“I hardly know him,” Derek said. “You should go with Stiles.”

“Derek, I thought you were going to rage out and kill Mr. Lahey. You might hardly know Isaac, but you’ve been a good friend to him anyway,” John said. 

“I think Derek should go first,” Erica said. “I talked to Isaac earlier. He was so excited about the job. He had enough money saved to rent a room from Ms. Jones, but was afraid if he moved out, he'd lose his job at the cemetery. You giving him a job gave him the opportunity to get out. He was going to tell his dad at dinner.”

“I can imagine how that went,” Derek said. “What exactly happened?” He looked to John who frowned. 

“From what we can figure out, Mr. Lahey attacked Isaac and locked him in a chest freezer in the basement, which is where Isaac called 911 from, but his battery died during the call. He tried to get out, hence the injuries to his hands.”

“His O2 levels were dangerously low, it was a good thing you got him out when you did,” the doctor said and Derek felt a growl growing inside him. “Now, if two of you will follow me.”

Erica pushed Stiles and Derek to follow, so they did. Derek leaned on Stiles, worried his weight was too much, but Stiles didn’t complain. The doctor left them outside the room, reminding them of the ten minute limit.

They stared at the door for a good minute before Derek pushed it open and walked inside, surprised to see Isaac sitting up and looking at the door. He was still pale and the nasal cannula and bandage on his cheek didn’t help his appearance, but he grinned when he saw them. He gestured at them with one bandaged hand and they hurried to his side.

“I’m sorry I missed the meeting,” he said, his voice raspy and Derek could only imagine his throat was raw from shouting for help. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to hire me now.”

Tears sprang to Derek’s eyes as he reached out to run a hand over Isaac’s hair. “Are you kidding? You can start whenever you get out of here. How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed. Scared,” he admitted.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about and nothing to be scared of,” Derek told him. 

They stayed for their ten minutes, talking about anything except why Isaac was there. Derek reassured him three different times that he still had a job waiting for him as soon as he was ready and they also offered to help him move into the room at Ms. Jones.

They left shortly after sending Erica and Boyd in to see Isaac. John hugged Stiles and then surprised Derek by pulling him into one as well. “Go home and get some sleep. Both of you.”

It was just after midnight when they got back to the flower shop. Thankfully, Derek had driven because Stiles had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, head pressed against the window and soft snores coming from his lips.

“Hey,” Derek whispered, reaching over and brushing his fingers over Stiles’ cheek, smiling when he smacked his lips and blinked his eyes slowly.

“We home?” he muttered before his eyes drifted shut again and Derek chuckled, getting out of the car and walking around to the passenger side.

Opening the door, he reached across Stiles to undo his seatbelt and then helped him sit up. He kept checking his face, but Stiles’ eyes remained closed. As he turned him in his seat, so his legs were out of the car, he saw a twitch at the corner of his lips. Pursing his lips, he leaned over and put his shoulder into Stiles’ stomach, maneuvering him out of the car and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Hey!” Stiles objected. “This isn’t romantic!” 

“Nope,” Derek said, debating taking Stiles over to his Jeep but when he heard him yawn, he started towards the door of the shop. “You’re too tired to drive,” he said when Stiles made a questioning noise.

“I can walk!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Derek teased, but relented to put Stiles back on his feet so he could unlock the back door. 

Stiles leaned back against the wall next to the door, smiling before a yawn took over again. “Just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date,” he said through the yawn and Derek nearly dropped the keys. “You must be tired, too, I think that’s the first sign of klutziness from you I’ve ever seen.”

They made their way into the shop and up the stairs to Derek’s apartment. “I’ve probably got something you can sleep in,” he was saying, stopping when Stiles wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder.

“Should I say something cheesy like ‘your arms’?” Stiles teased.

“Thought you didn’t put out on the first date,” Derek responded, turning in Stiles’ arms and tucking his fingers through Stiles’ belt loops and pulling their bodies flush together.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t cuddle.” Any response Derek could come up with was cut off by Stiles’ lips on his.

The alarm went off far too early the next morning and Derek, for the first time since returning to Beacon Hills, regretted opening his own shop. He grabbed his phone and shut off the alarm, jumping when someone ran a hand over his stomach before he remembered that Stiles had spent the night. They’d fallen asleep after a short period of making out when neither one of them could control their yawns anymore.

“I’ll go start the coffee and today’s bouquet. You can take a shower and get dressed if you want,” Derek said, pushing off the bed and heading for the stairs. He still had about an hour before he needed to open so he had time before he had to get dressed. Stiles made a sound of acknowledgement, peeking out from under the blankets and letting out a whistle when Derek turned his back and headed toward the stairs. Chuckling, Derek reached back, grasping the waistband of his sleep pants, pulling them down and back up again quickly and laughing outright when he heard a thud that sounded a lot like Stiles falling off the bed.

Stiles stumbled down the stairs just as Derek finished fixing his coffee, making grabby hands and pressing a kiss to Derek’s cheek before taking a sip and leaning against the counter next to him. “Is it too soon to say I could get used to this.”

“It might be, but I feel the same.” It terrified him to admit it, but in just one week Stiles had carved a place in Derek’s life, showing him something he hadn’t realized was missing.

The day dragged on after Stiles left with another kiss and a promise to talk to Derek later. The shop was dead and once Erica showed up, Derek went down the street to grab sandwiches for both of them. After locking up, he headed to the hospital to visit Isaac who was in better spirits than the day before, happily announcing they’d be releasing him the next day. The nurse let Derek take Isaac for a walk and Derek pushed his wheelchair into the elevator and down to Alex’s room.

The two teenagers hit it off and while they were there, Erica texted Isaac to check on him and soon she and Boyd joined them. The teens stuck around even after Derek excused himself to head home, smiling when he found Stiles sitting there, spinning his phone in his hands. 

“This is becoming a habit,” Derek said, smiling when Stiles rose and followed him inside.

“Complaining?”

“Never,” Derek said, moving into the shop and opening one of the coolers. He reached inside and took out something he’d been working on earlier in the day, turning and handing it to Stiles.

“What is this?” He held the mug up to his eyes, grinning at the Batman signal on the front before looking at the strange plant growing out of it. 

“It’s a money tree,” Derek explained. “It takes very little care, two ice cubes a week to water and a little bit of sunlight.” He ducked his head when Stiles gaped at him. “You complained that night when you brought dinner that you never could keep a plant alive and then during dinner you’d laughed at your father telling you that money doesn’t grow on trees.”

“So you bought me a virtually unkillable plant that grows money?” Stiles asked, voice awed.

“Oh no, it’s killable. If you overwater it, it will rot,” Derek warned, "but I figured with definite instructions, you would be alright." 

“Guess you’re just going to have to make sure you come over every week to be sure it’s doing alright,” Stiles said, setting the mug down on the counter and moving closer to Derek, wrapping his arms around his waist and leaning his head on his shoulder. “At least until you get sick of me.”

“Guess the plant’s a goner,” Derek teased, laughing outright when Stiles lifted his head and scoffed at him. He silenced any further outrage with a kiss, smiling against Stiles’ lips as his words melted into a pleased hum.

After that first week, life for Derek fell into a routine of flowers and Stiles and amassing a pack of teenagers that he began to think of as family. The flower shop seemed to always have a customer in it and when they finally added ordering to the website, business grew even more. Derek ended up hiring a couple of other teenagers and Stiles would help out on weekends as well as his best friend Scott, who after a stilted beginning became a good friend as well. 

Things were busy but Derek wouldn’t trade it for anything and as he stood in front of his family’s crypt one day, having dropped off tulips at Stiles’ mom's grave before bringing gladiolas there. He told his family about Stiles, convinced that his Uncle Peter would’ve loved him, both of them were wicked intelligent and sharp of tongue. As his thoughts ran out and his voice grew tired, he laid a hand against the side of the crypt, pressing his forehead to the cold marble and whispered, “I’m rebuilding the house.” It was probably his imagination, but he swore the marble grew warm and a pulse of something ran through him and he took it as a sign of approval from his lost family.

While the house was being rebuilt, Derek ignored Stiles’ teasing about the house being too big for one man until he rolled his eyes and shoved Stiles away with one hand. “Then move in with me,” he said. They’d been dating for six months by that point, the weather growing warmer and his employees suffering the worst case of senioritis he’d ever seen, so Derek spent more time at the shop again, Stiles coming to help in the evenings and end up spending the night more often than not anyway.

The house was completed almost a year to the day after Blackbird Blooms had opened and Derek was standing in the backyard looking over the greenhouse he’d had built, already planning out what flowers he’d grow there for the shop, cutting back on cost and increasing profit with the added bonus the relaxation of gardening brought him. For now, the only thing in the greenhouse was a pot with a cutting from Stiles’ money tree that had prospered and moved out of the mug into a bigger pot within a few months. Derek hoped it would keep growing until he could sell them in the shop.

He heard Stiles approaching before arms wrapped around his waist and a chin dug into his shoulder. “Coming to bed sometime soon or are we going to have to put a cot out here?” Derek tilted his head and hummed thoughtfully, laughing when Stiles hit him with a catalog envelope he had in his hand.

“What’s that?” Derek asked, turning to face him.

Stiles stepped back and fidgeted with the envelope. “I know she left you the shop, but did you know Ms. Cordelia?” he asked after a few moments.

“My mom and I would come visit her almost every week when I was younger,” Derek said, a soft smile on his face. “She was such a great woman.”

Stiles’ smile was sad. “She was. My dad used to bring me to see her, but after my mom died, it hurt to much to see her so we stopped going.”

“I never said goodbye,” Derek said. “Laura and I left town too quickly. When I heard she’d died, I felt awful. The shop is named after a drawing she’d included in her will of a blackbird. I remember her sketchbook and thinking her drawings were magic, they looked so alive.”

“She was always a little bit magical, wasn't she?” He hung his head as he continued. “She called me and my dad over one night and we talked like the old days and when we left, I promised I’d start visiting again. She gave me this before we left.” Stiles waved the envelope around a bit. “Told me to open it when the time was right. She died that night and I hid it away and forgot about it.”

“What’s in it?” Derek asked, reaching for the envelope and taking it from him, noticing that it was still sealed.

“Don’t know. I’d forgotten about it until I was unpacking my books. It fell out of one of the encyclopedias of the supernatural that I had.” He looked at it and back up at Derek. “I’m thinking it might be the right time, but I’m not-”

Stiles voice cut off and his eyes grew wide. Derek turned his head to follow his gaze and saw a blackbird sitting on the peak of the roof of the greenhouse, a yellow zinnia in its beak. “What does the flower mean?” Stiles whispered.

“I need a closer look,” Derek whispered back and the bird let out a call, the flower falling to land close enough to their feet that Derek was able to pick it up without too much movement, fearful of startling the bird. “It’s a zinnia.” He closed his eyes, afraid he’d open them to find the bird gone, but needing to focus his memory on the hours spent researching flowers for his customers. “Zinnias stand for memory. I know the different colors have more-”

“Good memories,” Stiles said and Derek found him looking at his phone. “Daily remembrance of a good memory.” He looked from the flower in Derek’s hand to the envelope in the other. “I think it’s the right time.” 

Linking their arms, Derek opened the envelope and Stiles reached inside, pulling out two sheets of paper. The top was a letter addressed to the both of them. Exchanging a look, Stiles began to read it: “To my ‘grandsons’ Derek and Mieczysław. Shut up, Derek,” Stiles teased when he snorted. “It’s not like you didn’t know my name.” Derek gestured for him to continue, the rest of his voice still lost at the honorary title she’d bestowed upon them. “When you both began visiting with your parents, I felt something and it wasn’t something I could identify right away but one day while I was sketching and not really watching my hands, an image appeared. It was an image of the future, a future I know I won’t be around to see. Derek is gone from Beacon Hills, but I hope one day he will return and that is why my home is being left to him and his beautiful sister. Mieczysław, I know you will never leave your father for long so I hope the home will be enough to draw Derek back, but based on the image, I believe that it will.”

Stiles stopped reading and looked up at Derek, sliding the letter away and staring down at the sketch, his breath catching at a drawing of the both of them, standing just as they were at that moment. Even the clothes were right and the detail of the single tear flowing down each of their cheeks and the flower in Derek’s hand. The blackbird stood on the peak of a building behind them, just as it was at that moment. “How?” Stiles breathed out.

“Magic,” Derek said, looking up at the bird. He took the letter from Derek, knowing there were still a few more lines left and his curiosity growing. “I believe the two of you are destined to be together and I firmly hold to the belief you will find each other and be together under the blessing of the blackbird.”

The blackbird cawed just as Derek finished speaking, his voice choked. They looked up and will both swear until their dying day that the bird winked at them before flying away into the preserve, disappearing into the darkening evening sky. Derek turned back to Stiles who looked just as dumbstruck as he felt. 

“I feel it,” Stiles finally said, his lips curving into a smile as his eyes traced over the image, sliding it back into the envelope and moved it under his arm to hold against his body as he moved into Derek’s arms. 

“What?” Derek asked, leaning to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips, soft and chaste but sending a zing through his body anyway.

“The blessing of the blackbird,” Stiles said, taking Derek’s hand and pulling him into the house, grinning back at him, eyes sparkling with love and mischief as they climbed the stairs and Derek had to admit that he felt it, too. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me at josjournal on tumblr!!!! 
> 
> Kudos and Comments are food for the writer's soul.


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